


Iron Enough

by tessykins



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Dom/sub, M/M, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-17
Updated: 2009-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’s thinking of killing himself with a shocking amount of certainty when a cool hand clasps around the back of his neck. The Doctor knows who it is without even looking. “Master,” he sighs, a prayer, a benediction. He looks up into the Master’s eyes, blue as the waters of the bay where he stood the worst day of his life. The Master’s body is the one he remembers best, the one that mirrors his own.</i></p><p><i>The Master smiles, cocks his head. “You’re not my Doctor.” His grin turns feral. “Yet.”</i></p><p>The half-human Doctor struggles to discover what it is that makes a man; the Master teaches him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Enough

_"These Are the Things That Make a Man:  
Iron enough to make a nail,  
Water enough to drown a dog,  
Sulfur enough to stop the fleas,  
Poison enough to kill a cow…  
Strength enough to build a home,  
Time enough to hold a child and  
Love enough to break a heart.”_  
\--Terry Pratchett, Wintersmith

  
Things haven’t gone the way he planned, not at all. He loves Rose, he really does, he loves her with all his single heart. Almost all of it.

But the part of his heart that walked under the orange skies of Gallifrey, that traveled across time and the universe, yearns for something more. He always thought that a normal life would be his last great adventure. But as long as he remembers more than this, it will never satisfy him.

He realizes now what he did to his old companions. How do you go back to the old life once you’ve seen all the universe has to offer?

And loving Rose just makes it that much worse. He can’t leave her behind, can’t make her understand his restlessness. He told her he wanted to travel, and she only told him she’d follow him wherever he went. She doesn’t understand, _can’t_ ; it’s his nature to wander alone.

The cliffs around Bad Wolf Bay are as bleak as his future. Unable to move forward, unable to leave.

He’s thinking of killing himself with a shocking amount of certainty when a cool hand clasps around the back of his neck.

The Doctor knows who it is without even looking. “Master,” he sighs, a prayer, a benediction.

He looks up into the Master’s eyes, blue as the waters of the bay where he stood the worst day of his life. The Master’s body is the one he remembers best, the one that mirrors his own.

The Master smiles, cocks his head. “You’re not my Doctor.” His grin turns feral. “Yet.”

\---

The Master has a TARDIS. The Doctor finds himself almost more surprised by that than the Master’s existence in this universe.

The Doctor runs his hand over the console, feeling the thrum of life, of freedom, under his hands. Red lights pulse below his fingertips.

“She brought me here, you know,” the Master remarks. “She must have felt you.”

The Doctor jerks his hand back. “She can’t have.” He’s not quite a Time Lord, not quite a man.

The Master grins, tilts his head in that way of his. “Do you know what happened to my Doctor?”

The Doctor shakes his head, looking away.

“He killed them, every Time Lord, every Dalek. He wiped them out of existence, out of time itself.” His grin remains, but his face seems to pull away from it. “He burned himself up doing it. No more regenerations for my Doctor. He’s gone, just like all the others. There’s just me.”

The Doctor sighs. “I know.” He hasn’t felt that dark since he wore leather and big ears. But the Master, he digs up old pain, old wounds; they’re all that’s left of their people. One-and-a-half Time Lords.

The Master walks up, invades the Doctor’s personal space. “Do you know, Doctor? Have you ever watched your people burn? Ever been so alone that all you heard were echoes? Have you ever been the last?”

The Doctor meets the Master’s eyes. “Yes. We’re all that’s left.”

The Master nods, lifts a hand to the Doctor’s chest. The Doctor flinches back, grabs at the Master’s hand, but it’s too late.

The Master has felt his pulse. His horrifying, single human pulse.

The Master cocks an eyebrow. “What are you, Doctor?”

\---

The Doctor doesn't say goodbye to Rose. He leaves a message on their machine at home— _“This is Rose Tyler and John Smith. Leave a message and we'll get back to you when we're done saving the world”_ —and the Master even scowls at that. And the Doctor's not entirely sure he could leave Rose behind if he held her in his arms again.

This is better. A clean start.

In this universe, in this form, this old love—first love—burns brighter than anything. The Doctor wonders if this is a human thing, human feelings and human heart clouding his logic.

The Master gently touches the soft skin below his chin, tipping his head back to look at him. The Doctor meets the Master's eyes, burning like a dark sun in the black of space. He's not alone anymore, not the last, and that is worth _everything._

\---

The Master’s fascinated by him. The Doctor thinks that might be the difference between the universes.

This Master wants to study him, to see how he ticks. He’s had years alone, spent his time studying rather than destroying. There’s no joy in fighting for dominance when there’s no one left to fight. The Master runs experiment after experiment on him. Scanners and sonic images, examining his hybrid physiology. The Master's obsessed with how the human double helix has meshed with the innumerably complex genetics of the Time Lords.

The Doctor allows it, curious himself, and anything that keeps him the focus of the Master's attention is worth it.

And that's how the human Doctor ends up traveling the universe as a Time Lord's companion and occasional lab rat.

Nothing about it is easy. The Doctor still doesn't completely trust the Master, but needs him with a soul-deep desperation that scares him. The Master still looks at him evaluating and wary; where does their shared past diverge, how similar is he to this universe's Doctor? And the Doctor can never quite forget that he is neither one thing nor the other, not human, not Time Lord.

The Master knows it, insulting and insinuating and learning the Doctor's new weak spots. His cruel, triumphant smile is curiously comforting. It tells the Doctor that this the same Koschei who loved Theta Sigma and showed him that pain and submission could be good, oh, so good.

The Master doesn't push him on that, both a surprise and a boon. The Doctor wants him, needs him, but he fears that the Master's hands on his skin might break him into a million tiny pieces.

Instead they spend their time traveling, visiting tiny planets and the wonders of the universe alike. The Master carries out his shadowy business and the Doctor turns a blind eye; he no longer has the energy or the inclination to fight that Master. He'd rather spend his time observing the species they encounter, learning from them.

What is it that makes a man? His DNA, the chemical composition of his brain? His family, his love, his heart? That elusive spark of “soul?” No one can give him the answers he so desperately craves.

The children playing in the snow of the planet Hoth sing him a children's rhyme, “ _These are the things that makes a man: iron enough to make a nail..._ ”

When he tells the Master, he only laughs. “Did you hear the end of that song, dear Doctor?”

But the Doctor is no longer interested in learning songs; after that, the Master starts pushing. Little touches and half-casual orders. The Doctor realizes that the Master is experimenting again, gaging his reactions. It's a seduction and the Doctor gives in willingly, falling blindly. Or he would, if the Master would let him. The Master never reacts when the Doctor responds to his advances, never takes what the Doctor is offering. It's a dance, but not one that the Doctor knows the steps.

He frustrated and he _needs_. He needs the Master, needs his iron-hard control. He needs the Master's hands on him, forcing him to submit.

It takes two more planet hops before the Doctor realizes that things are different now. This Doctor is part human. This Master was the last of their kind. This Master never left the Doctor, dying with a laugh in his arms. This Master needs the Doctor to be the one to reach out a hand.

It's not even a decision the Doctor realizes he's making until he's already made it.

The Doctor follows the Master to the room where he sleeps, or at least where he goes when the Doctor sleeps. The Master watches with cocked eyebrow and amused grin as the Doctor strips out of his suit, kicking it unheeded into a corner.

The Doctor drops to his knees, metal grating scraping his skin, hands folded behind his back and head bowed. Just how Koschei had taught him centuries ago. He can hear the Master's sharp intake of breath and pleasure sparks through him. “Please, Master,” he whispers, eyes on the floor and cock hard against his thigh.

The Master taps him under the chin, instructing him to look up. The Master smiles, eyes dark and hot. “Good boy. I've been waiting for you.”

The Doctor ducks his head and blushes; the praise causes a warm curl of pleasure to warm his gut.

The Master walks to the dark wood chest hulking at the foot of his luxurious bed. He pulls out a set of rings that glint dully in the half light. The Doctor's breath catches in his chest. The Master smiles ruefully. “You remember these, then?”

“Yes,” the Doctor breathes, quiet but it echoes in the silence between them. Isomorphic iron, attuned to the thoughts of the Time Lords that used them, the only restraints he and Koschei has ever needed.

The Master stares at him for a long moment. “I kept them after you—he—left.” His nails pick at a tiny spot of rust. “I've been waiting for a long time.” His gaze captures the Doctor's. “Will you wear them again?”

The Doctor nods, not trusting his voice. His head is filled with memories of heat and iron.

The Master grins in grim satisfaction and binds him in chains of iron. Unadorned rings around his wrists, his throat, the base of his cock. The Doctor shivers from memory and anticipation.

The Master steps back to survey his handiwork. “Your humans say the clothes make the man,” he says, voice thick with lust and gloating. “But these,” he lightly, almost reverently touches the collar around the Doctor's neck. “These make the Time Lord.”

At the Master's mental touch, the cuffs snap together, binding the Doctor's hands. It's a trick he can no longer hope to emulate, not with a partly human brain. He's truly helpless here and the though makes him gasp, his hips bucking.

The Master cups the Doctor's face in both hands, fingertips leaving small, sharp bruises. “Open to me,” he growls.

The Doctor hesitates, unsure if he trusts the Master that far.

“I am you Master and you will obey me.” The Master leans down and plants a savage, biting kiss on the Doctor's lips.

The Doctor sighs happily and surrenders, lowering the psychic walls time and war have created. He surrenders and lets the Master lead him down into the darkness.

\----

Months pass in a blur of delicious agony and ecstasy, all rolled into one in the presence of the Master.

The Doctor shifts his knees on the uncomfortable grating, mouth straining around the Master's cock as he leans against the TARDIS' console.

The Master moans harshly and tightens his grip on the Doctor's disheveled hair. The Master's hips jerk and he comes with a yell, spilling heat down the Doctor's throat.

The Doctor whimpers happily, lost in a haze of pain and pleasure and the taste of his Master. The Master's psychic hold on his mind tightens, the Master's presence burning like a forest fire. The Doctor's eyes fall shut and he moans in sharp-edged bliss, tumbling over the edge.

“Doctor,” the Master hums thoughtfully to himself. “Do you know where we are?” he asks conversationally. The Doctor's eyes flicker opens and the Master chuckles, “No, of course you don't.”

The Master pulls at his hair and the Doctor pulls off of his cock with a wet pop and a bereft moan that once would have shamed him. The Master drags him up, deft fingers and nimble hands touching and caressing until the Doctor is a writhing, boneless mess.

“Don't you recognize this little slice of the galaxy?” the Master asks insistently and warning bells go off in the Doctor's head. Cold doubt scythes through the fog of pleasure. The Master smiles and touches a button on the console.

The door creaks open and the Doctor turns slowly, full of doubt and already knowing what he'll see.

The Master's TARDIS is suspended over a small planet and her moon. It's Earth, and she's burning.

“Why are you doing this?” the Doctor demands, rage boiling up like acid in his throat. He'd thought it was safe to trust this Master and now Earth was paying the price for his recklessness. He should have thought, should have known, should have suspected. Human tears of salt and water start to spill from his eyes; this betrayal cuts deeper than any from the other universe. He had thought this time there was trust, maybe even love, between them.

The Master laughs, casually tucking himself back into his pants. “We've lost our edge, Doctor: our fire, our passion. I thought we'd try something new.” He grins, the maniac smile pulled from the other side of the universe. “It's not as much fun when you don't fight me.”

The Doctor whips around, fists closing around the Master's rumpled shirt. “Fun? Millions of people are dying for your _fun_?”

“Oh, no,” the Master coos, gently untangling the Doctor's hands. “Billions are.”

The Doctor stares in shocked rage, unable to find his voice in the storm inside him.

The Master smiles, almost a touch sadly, and draws the Doctor back into his arms. “Oh, my Doctor, you really should have learned the rest of the song.” His voice slides sing-song, mocking. “'Iron enough to make a nail, water enough to drown a dog... Strength enough to build a home, time enough to hold a child.” He kisses the Doctor brutally and now the kiss is filled with resentment and pain and madness, burning between them.

“And love enough to break a heart.”


End file.
